


My Brother

by Jay_Wells



Series: The Odd Life of Alexander Hamilton [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, The Panama Invasion, U. S. Army, ace laurens, anxiety (implied), bisexual Hamilton, rated for language and homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Wells/pseuds/Jay_Wells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I do not advise your coming to this country at present, for the war has also put things out of order here, and people in your business find a subsistence difficult enough. My object will be, by-and-by, to get you settled on a farm.<br/>Believe me always your affectionate friend and brother,<br/>Alex. Hamilton."<br/>[1785 Letter to James Hamilton Jr.]</p><p>It's 1988, and Alex's brother, missing for five years, has reappeared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John was binge-watching “Diff’rent Strokes” when Alex came tearing down the stairs. Without looking up, he laughed, “Can you chill? It’s only, like, eight-thirty. Whatever Seabury did, it can wait a few seconds while you walk down the stairs like a human being.”

“John. It’s not Seabury.” Alex’s voice was strained, and when John looked up, he was crying.

“Alex, man, are you alright?” John grabbed him by the upper arm. “What happened?”

Alex was shaking as he dragged John upstairs to the office and led him to their PC. It was open to the comment section of Alex’s blog. John skimmed the list, looking for whatever shook Alex up so badly. John needed to know whose ass to kick. Instead, he found a name: _James Hamilton._

“Who is this?” he asked.

“My brother,” Alex breathed. “I haven’t seen him since the hurricane. I thought he was dead.”

John wrapped his arms around Alex and pulled him against his chest.

“I left him there, John.” he sobbed. “I abandoned him. It’s been five years. He probably hates me.”

“If he hated you, he wouldn’t try to make contact.” John rubbed his back soothingly. “He’s reaching out because he misses you, too. Why don’t you email him?”

Alex nodded and copy-and-pasted his brother’s address into a new email, and started typing. After a few false starts, he ended with:

_James,_

_I got your message. I’m sorry I left you on St. Croix. I didn’t know you were still alive; so many people died and you never got found. What happened? Where were you? I don’t have much right now, but whatever aid I can provide, just name it. If you want -- I’ve got a paid internship at a law office, and I get a little money from the army -- we could both save, and I promise I can bring you to America at the end of the second year. Try not to get into any debt, or get yourself tied down. It’ll be easier to bring you here that way._

_What’s happened to Dad? I’ve tried writing him, but I haven’t gotten a response. I’m worried that he’s dead, and I’ve lost the chance to make his life easier. I hope his brothers have reached out to him, as you to me, and assisted him. If he’s dead, how long? If he is alive, please ask him to contact me. Tell him I forgive him for everything and am prepared to take care of him in any way possible._

_I love you._

_Your loving friend and brother,_

_Alex_

 

John had taken French in high school but stumbled a bit over translating Alex’s Creole. He also knew Alex wouldn’t be able to afford to bring his brother to America in two years time, no matter what he thought. Between his pre-law studies, internship and training, his days took more out of him than his paycheck warranted. And his scholarship for grad school didn’t cover the cost of books or food. And something told him James would be unable to make up the difference.

 

* * *

 

 

They had their monthly mandated training the next day, and John knew Alex was always worn out after, despite his insistence to the contrary, and would be sleeping it off on his futon. John snuck into the office, mindful of Alex curled up in the corner. He booted up the PC and began composing a new email, when he encountered a problem: Alex had written his email in Creole yesterday, so was that necessity or preference? If he wrote him in French, not Creole, would he be offended? If Alex knew English, James should know it too, but John didn’t know when Alex learned English. It occurred to that he knew very little about Alex’s life before he had come to the States.

Finally, he decided on the safest option: write it in French.

_Mr. James Hamilton,_

_My name is John Laurens. I’m your brother’s roommate. I would like to make an offer:_

_Alex can’t afford to bring you over, but I can. I’ll provide assistance with any paperwork necessary, I’ll hook you up with a job, anything you need. Your brother is a very dear friend of mine, and I would go to lengths to make him happy. However, his pride will suffer from my doing this, and so I would be grateful if you did not mention it to him._

_Thank you,_

_Laurens_

 

He got a reply fifteen minutes later. _Thank you._

John felt a wave of relief.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later Alex was fuming. “How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.” John scooted to make room on the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“John, you should have told me! I didn’t want him coming right now, because things are getting serious down there, and I might be deployed soon.” Alex ran a hand through his curly brown hair. “Oh, my god. He’s gonna need my help, and I’ll be deployed, and he’ll be left alone to work through the system.”

John started. “Wait, they’re gonna deploy you? When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it wasn’t a sure thing, and you didn’t bring it up, and you’d feel awful if they didn’t deploy us both, and there was no reason to worry you for no reason,” he said. “I was going to tell you when I knew more about it.”

“Alex, I’m sorry. I wanted to do something nice for you that didn’t have to be kept private. That’s all. I’m sorry for not talking to you first.”

Alex collapsed against him and attempted a kiss on the cheek, but it really wasn't much more than pressing his lips to John's face. He sounded frustrated when he said, “I know. I really do appreciate it, but please don’t do these things without asking me first. I prefer not to be lied to.”

“Okay.”

That summer James was put on a plane to New York with a two-hour stopover in San Juan, Puerto Rico. The entire morning, Alex was on the phone with James. After three hours, he hung up.

“He says he needs to drive to the airport.” Alex was pacing the kitchen, messenger bag still thrown over his shoulder. He had his last final for the summer term today.

John was cursing his way through his anatomy paper, and feeling just a little jealous that Alex didn’t have to go to grad school this fall. His pen dropped from his hand. “Wait. Does he know there’s an ‘us’?”

“Not really.” Alex’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll tell him, but I wasn’t sure you wanted to out yourself to him. I want to believe it won’t matter, but I can’t just assume. That could go poorly. I can’t really hide my own sexuality from him forever, though, when I’m a card-carrying member of NYABN.” He stopped pacing and flopped into a chair, bouncing his knee and compulsively tapping his forefinger against his temple in thought. “I’ll feel him out first, check his thoughts on the subject, then if it’s safe, I’ll break it to him gently.”

He wasn’t really talking to John by now, so he didn’t answer.

 

They met James at the airport at midnight, holding a cardboard sign with “Hamilton” written in all caps. A handful of people struggling with baggage exited, including a man with a blue bandanna holding back his dreadlocks, a pair of worn jeans and a touristy _San Juan_ t-shirt. He was wearing work boots and carrying a black suitcase over his shoulder. When he saw their sign, he broke into a huge grin and jogged over.

“Alex, my brother, how are you?” His eyes ghosted over John before locking onto Alex. He spoke in an accent, similar to Alex’s when they'd met. “It’s been too long.”

Alex started to cry silently and threw his arms around his brother.

 

James got a retail job at Mulligan’s and pulled his weight, and as a former carpenter, he was useful to have around the house. Within a few weeks, he’d fixed the wobbly kitchen table, the bathroom door that never quite shut and the crooked pantry shelf. He told jokes and anecdotes that left Alex gasping with laughter, and that John didn’t get.

John was embarrassed to admit he was a bit jealous. He tried not to be -- James and Alex haven’t seen each other in five years. They had a lot of catching up to do before Alex was deployed to Panama, something John couldn’t stand to think about. And Alex just realized his dead brother is very much alive. John wondered if had he learned Jemmy was out there somewhere, he wouldn’t want to spend more time with him.

 

Alex left in December when an invasion of Panama was confirmed by Congress. At the airport, he felt empty, even as Alex hugged him because to anybody else in the room, they were just friends. James watched as he reluctantly pulled back. “You had better not die in the Caribbean.”

“Of course not. I spent too much time trying _not_ to do just that.” He grinned and joked, “I’ll be back when Panama is free from dictatorship.”

“Alright, then, go on and do your thing. I’ll be watching from home.”

Alex grabbed him by the wrist when he turned. Through his brave facade, he looked genuinely frightened. “John … I know you aren’t really religious, but … pray for me?”

John froze. Alex deeply distrusted organized religion, and sometimes John forgot that he really was religious. When they had gotten back to New York after Lebanon, Alex’s old college roommate Robert told him he prayed twice daily, but since then it had become rare. John himself hadn't prayed since he decided religion could go to hell if it told him he couldn't be happy. He'd rather deal with that guilt than feel guilty about Alex.

“Yeah,” he choked. Alex smiled gratefully, and for a second John was afraid he’d forget himself and kiss him right in the middle of the busy airport. They weren’t drawing attention now, but if they kissed, they’d both be discharged. Alex wouldn’t have to go then, but it would break his heart. NYABN was discreet about its members; the public was not. John walked away, but he stayed in the parking lot with James to watch the distant plane take off until it disappeared.

On the car ride home, James said, very quietly, “You’re in love with my brother, aren’t you?”

John stiffened but kept his focus on the road. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re too casual about denying, first off.” James didn’t look at him either. “I’ve never met a straight man who didn’t bluster at an accusation like that. Also, I’m not blind.” His months in New York had softened his accent, John noticed. “Now, I noticed because he’s my little brother and because I spend every day with you two. And I can’t say it bothers me too much, as long as I don’t have to watch you two do it.”

John’s face flushed. “We’ve never -- that’s --”

“Chill, man. I’m only kidding. Mostly.” James waved a hand dismissively. “Look, you got me out of the Caribbean and reunited with my brother, whom I otherwise would’ve never seen again. I love my brother. So I’m gonna overlook it. I’m not saying I like it, but I’ll overlook it.” Then he turned to face him. “I wouldn’t do gay shit like that scene at the airport in public, though. Keep it at home. Alex wants a career in politics? He needs to play by their rules, at least right now he does. He’s already poor, biracial and from outside the continental states. The odds are stacked so he can’t win. He doesn’t need to be any _more_  fucked right now.”

“Thanks, I guess?” John wasn’t sure how to respond to the mixed vibes, but he did know if James kept talking about how fucked they were, he was going to have a panic attack.

James thumped him on the back. “You’re welcome, my brother.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton was, according to Robert Troup, very religious as a college student, but didn't go to church. He also intended for his brother to join him in the U.S., but IRL James died in 1786.
> 
> It was illegal to be bi/gay and in the military in 1988, and according to Reagan (1982) "incompatible." Don't Ask, Don't Tell wasn't a thing yet, either, so you either got kicked out or lied.
> 
> NYABN stands for New York Area Bisexual Network.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander has a heart-to-heart with James on move-in day.

“So.” Alexander rested one hand on his hip and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the other. It was below freezing outside -- Alexander didn’t think he’d ever get used to New York weather, especially if he kept getting deployed back to the Caribbean -- but carrying the heavy boxes up twelve flights of stairs was exhausting. “Moving day.”

 _“Wi.”_ James dropped onto a pile of boxes. “Wanna grab a beer with me? It’s the least I could do.”

“I’ll take you up on a rest if you've got water.” Alexander’s knees felt weak. He’d almost rather be back in Panama than here. At least in Panama there were water breaks.

They sat in companionable silence for a time, sipping their drinks.

James set his beer down. “So, you and John, huh?”

Alexander nearly spewed his drink all over the carpet. “What?”

“Relax. He told me at the airport after we saw you off.” At Alexander’s disbelieving look, he amended, “More like I guessed and he has a shitty poker face.”

“He does.” Alexander agreed. “I’ve been with him for … God, about six years now. You don't need to tell me how bad he is at secrets." He bit his lips and glanced at the floor nervously. "That doesn’t bother you, right?”

“Do you love him?” James was staring into the distance.

Alexander reclined against the moving boxes and called to mind his and John’s harebrained schemes and John cursing over his English homework and John calling favors in with his father to reunite Alexander with his brother. “Yeah, I really, really do.”

James sighed as if he were having an internal battle. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Alexander remembered the years after their father left, when James had tried to step up and be a father figure to him -- long talks about the morality of actions, explaining anything he had questions about. James didn’t have the answers half the time, but he tried his damnedest. He walked him to the town library once a month, and he put aside a little money every year to buy a four-pound ham for Christmas. The first year he’d done it, Mama cried. They had hambone soup for a month afterward, and they were so sick of it by the time it was gone, it mattered a lot less that they only got it once a year.

“Yeah, I know.” He sipped his water and looked up at the ceiling. He wondered if their mother was looking down from Heaven right now, seeing her boys in America with their own apartments -- cheap, but liveable. Alexander had a college degree and was a war veteran. James was seeing a girl and had a steady job. He hoped she could see how hard they were trying to make her sacrifice mean something.

“I might not agree,” James said carefully. “But it’s not up to me to judge you, and I want to be part of your life. I want you to be part of mine. So I’m not gonna condemn you for something that makes you happy. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” Alexander sighed. “I get it. I’m still going to hope you’ll come around one day -- the world’s changing, right outside our windows, and soon people won’t mind it so much. However, you could be taking this a lot worse, so thanks for trying.”

“Don’t thank me.” James squirmed. “I’m just trying to do the right thing. I should be doin’ that, anyways.”

He laughed. “I like the way you think!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hambone soup is made of leftover ham and lima beans. You make the broth for it by soaking the bone from the ham in the water. It's delicious, and it's good for keeping the ham preserved longer because of all the salt in it. My grandma makes it every year.
> 
> Ham in 1974 cost about $2.30 per pound, so a four pound ham would cost $9.40. That's $48 today.


End file.
